


Fallen

by soulaire



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Catholicism, F/M, Implied Romance, Priests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulaire/pseuds/soulaire
Summary: Sakura dreads going to church every Sunday. Hates that her mother forces her to. Then their new priest arrives, and she swears she's never felt anything like this before.Sakura told her mother this very morning that she wasn’t sure she believed in God. Now she laughs at the thought. How stupid of her, she thinks. How foolish.Because surely God must exist to create a being so terrifyingly perfect.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Fallen

Sakura taps a foot against the floor of the church, more out of habit than anything. Her mom always found the habit annoying. Yet another reason why Sakura sat away from her during Mass. If her mother was going to force her to come to church every godforsaken Sunday she felt she at least had the right to sit wherever she pleased.

Sakura takes a moment to stare up at the stained-glass window above her. The early-morning sun pierces through it, causing fractals of light to dance along the floor, vibrant and colorful.

With a sigh she turns her attention to her missal and flips to today’s readings. From her backpack she pulls out a copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. A quick glance around the sanctuary confirms that she’s the only one on this pew with no one directly behind or ahead of her, and so she slides the book between the missal’s pages to begin reading.

She’s only able to get through a few pages before the church bells ring. She closes the book and rises to her feet just as a hymn begins.

Sakura remembers her mother telling her that today is the new priest’s first day. Her mother mentioned it before they left the apartment this morning. Poor Father Orochimaru—an old snake of a man and someone Sakura tried to stay away from as much as possible—suffered from a heart attack a few days ago and is to be hospitalized for the foreseeable future. Sakura hopes it’s forever.

“I heard the new priest is handsome,” her mother said as a way to bribe Sakura into going to Mass after Sakura vehemently reminded her that she wasn’t sure she even believed in God anymore.

“That’s disgusting, mom. He’s a priest,” Sakura replied, offended that her mom would think a mere handsome face would work on her.

Eventually her mom’s nagging wore her down as it always did. It was easier to give in than deal with the silent treatment for the next week. She’s only seventeen, after all, and still has another four months before she’s free to live and do as she wants.

Sakura yawns once, wishing she were at home studying for her exams instead. She just hopes this priest is actually good-looking enough to warrant her wasting her time here.

The hymn continues. She looks back to the door of the sanctuary.

And there, standing at the door, is their new priest.

The book between the pages of her missal drops from her hands and falls to the ground with a thud. She barely notices it. It remains there, forgotten, disappearing from her view like the people and the world around her.

There’s only him.

The priest strides down the aisle with sure steps, graceful and authoritative. She takes him in with starving eyes, as if he is the last thing she’ll ever see, as if God is only giving her these short, excruciating seconds before He steals him away from her forever. She’s never felt anything like this. Never felt the need to laugh and cry at the same time so much it hurt. Never felt such agonizing, marvelous awe, like she’s just witnessed an angel fall from the heavens above and the lingering light surrounding him is as blinding as it is beautiful. She can’t look away. Couldn’t even if she tried.

Sakura told her mother this very morning that she wasn’t sure she believed in God. Now she laughs at the thought. How stupid of her, she thinks. How foolish.

Because surely God must exist to create a being so terrifyingly perfect.

The priest passes by her aisle and meets her eyes for the briefest of moments. Mere seconds have passed since she first laid eyes on him yet it feels like she’s known him for an eternity. How is it possible, she wonders, to see someone for the first time yet feel like her very soul recognizes him? As if some deep, hidden part of her awakened and said, “Finally. There you are.”

Yet Sakura knows—she knows she’s never seen this man in her life. She never would’ve forgotten him if she had.

And for that brief second that their gazes lock, she sees the same in him. Sees the slightest widening of his eyes that are the color of the darkest pits of Hell, the color of her most obscure and wildest fantasies. She sees the flash of recognition in them and she knows he feels the same.

Her priest mounts the steps to the altar and stands before the church, breathtaking in his vestments and with the face of a god.

As if in a fever dream Sakura crosses herself when the church crosses themselves. She remains standing as they do, and when her priest says, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” she answers with the rest of the congregation, “Amen.”

His voice is rich and commanding, unlike anything she’s ever heard. It resonates to every corner of the church, and with each word he speaks she swears she hears the voices of God and Satan alike, warring with each other for dominance. It’s intoxicating, riveting.

She sits as the congregation sits. Listens to a man read from the Old Testament, a woman from the New Testament. Her priest reads from the Gospels. She kneels when the church kneels and prays when they pray.

And when the time comes for the Eucharist, she rises on light feet and nearly floats to the altar. She sees only him, hears only the remnants of his voice, feels nothing but her heart pounding in her chest and knows nothing except for the fact that this day, this moment will change her life forever. Perhaps it already has.

Visions flash through her mind with hypnotizing speed and quality. Visions of black wings caught on fire, of an angel’s halo burning with the force of the sun. Of his mouth on her mouth, his hands gripping her hips to the point of delicious pain. A vision of his body inside her body as they make love beneath a starless sky and she swears the feel of his black hair between her fingers and the sight of him above her is a religious experience in itself.

Sakura takes the wafer from the deacon and swallows it whole, all too eager for what comes next.

From her priest she takes the cup of wine.

As she raises the cup to her lips their eyes meet again. She swallows the wine and he’s looking at her like she’s the source of his greatest desires and greatest fears combined—a siren, deadly and exquisite.

In that moment Sakura feels something so utterly concrete, so full of truth it scares her: without a doubt she will do anything for this man. She feels the certainty of it in her soul.

“The blood of Christ,” he says so softly she nearly has to lean forward to hear him.

“Amen,” she whispers.

The trip back to her seat is a blur. Each step away from him aches, and she feels tears stinging in her eyes. Joy to this extent is painful indeed and she’s nearly brought to her knees from the force of it.

The Mass ends and all are exhorted to leave in peace. Yet Sakura feels no inkling of peace and knows she won’t until she speaks to him. She doesn’t even know his name.

She tells her mother she’ll walk home by herself before making her way to where the congregation surrounds their new priest. He’s extremely tall, however—at least six feet—and as such she’s still able to see him. He meets her eyes over the heads of the congregation immediately, almost as if he were searching for her in the crowd. To him she mouths, “I’ll wait for you.”

She hurries through a side door and from the shadows of the church, completely hidden, watches the cars filing into the street. Her heart races and blood pounds through her veins. Soon all the cars have left and she knows it’s only the two of them here.

“I was wondering where you went,” a smooth, steady voice says from behind her. “You said you would wait for me.”

She whirls around to face him. Gone are the vestments and in their place he wears black clerics. Her priest looks elegant beyond words, a gift from God Himself. Or perhaps from the Devil.

“And I did, didn’t I?” Sakura’s surprised at the strength behind her words. She feels about ready to faint from the experience of meeting him alone.

He raises a brow at her defiant tone. A small smile curves his lips as he looks down at her. “Aa. That you did.”

Sakura fidgets beneath his gaze, unsure of what to say next. She figures “I love you” or “Will you marry me?” are a little too forward.

“Tell me your name.”

She shivers at the enticing heat his simple command stokes within her. If she didn’t think she was entirely his before, she’s certain of it now. She would do anything to obey that voice, anything to make him happy.

“Sakura. Haruno Sakura.”

He’s silent for a moment. She watches him take in the color of her hair, her eyes. She wills herself to maintain eye contact with him although it’s becoming increasingly difficult. His black eyes seem to peer into her very soul, laying her naked before him. She feels she’ll never be able to hide anything from him even if she wants to.

“Sakura.” Her name on his lips is a symphony. The way he rolls the “r” smoothly off his tongue is the most erotic thing she’s ever heard—he says her name like he’s tasting his favorite, most precious wine, like he’s drunk off of it.

She flushes at the sound, pleased beyond words.

“Haruno Sakura.” He reaches out and takes a lock of her hair between his fingertips, the most gentle of touches. He drops his hand all too soon. “Such a fitting name. It’s perfect for you.”

“And who the hell are you?” she questions, trying to cover up her all-too obvious delight with some bravado.

“Try that again.” Another small, barely-there smile. “More politely, please.”

She glares up at him.

“Well?”

“Fine. What is your name, Father?”

He looks at her. And looks and looks and looks. Almost as if he too is afraid she’ll disappear from in front of him, never to be seen again. Like he can’t get enough of her. Like she was destined by God to meet him, and he knows she knows it.

Then her priest says, voice captivating and dangerous as sin, “You may call me Sasuke. It’s nice to finally meet you, Sakura.”

Sakura smiles.

And she swears she hears the Devil laughing at her from the depths of Hell below.

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece is heavily, heavily inspired by the "Original Sinners" series by Tiffany Reisz. I began the first book in the series, "The Siren", with zero expectations and here I am eight books later completely and utterly addicted and slightly terrified. If you’re willing to explore some problematic themes and very explicit (bdsm) sex scenes (and hear some very valid critiques of the Catholic Church), I suggest you give it a shot. It’s not for the faint-hearted, trust me. But it is one of the most captivating series I’ve ever read. 
> 
> The priest in Reisz’s series is of Danish decent. He’s blond and described as almost God-like. With Sasuke it was fun to write him as almost the opposite, falling moreso into a fallen angel’s role: with black wings instead of white. 
> 
> If you’re curious, I picture Sasuke to be around 26 years old in the fic. And just like in Reisz’s books, he would’ve waited until Sakura was 20 to sleep with her (just so you can breathe a little easier).
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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